


A Fist Full of Power Bars

by ozsaur



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Flora & Fauna, Gen, Humor, Pegasus Culture, Pegasus Galaxy, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur/pseuds/ozsaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fist Full of Power Bars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Telesilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/gifts).



> Written for Telesilla for sga_santa. I would like to thank dustandroses and my husband for beta.

"Well," John drawled, "At least now you can say you've seen everything."

Rodney snorted. "The day I see Santa fly in with his sleigh and his eight tiny reindeer is the day I'll say I've seen everything."

Both men instinctively searched the clear, blue sky but since there wasn't even a cloud up there, they went back to watching Ronon try and wrangle a pegasus.

It wasn't much of a pegasus in John's considered opinion. It was about the size of a Shetland pony, dun colored, with a black bristly mane that stood up along its neck, and a short black tail. Its wings were a leathery brown, more like a bat's wings than the beautiful white feathered ones of the mythical Pegasus. The creature, that the natives called a mirik, was far from the sparkly, winged horse loved by so many little girls on Earth.

The mirik couldn't actually fly. It seemed to use its wings as a form of defense to escape predators, flapping it's wings to bound high into the air and landing a dozen yards away.

Oops! Apparently, it also used its wings when it got annoyed. It - no he, definitely he - reared back on his hind legs and flapped them about Ronon's head sending him sprawling. Rodney barked out a laugh that he wisely stifled behind his hand while Ronon was too occupied with stomping after the mirik to notice.

The Ometian warriors, standing in a group to their left, weren't nearly as diplomatic. John was sure their guffaws and catcalls could be heard back at the village five miles away. The laughter only served to infuriate Ronon even more, judging by the way he kept reaching for his blaster which, fortunately for everyone there, was being held by Teyla. John wasn't really sure who Ronon wanted to kill more, the mirik or the warriors.

Deciding that everyone had had their fun for the day, John nudged Rodney with his elbow. "Bring any power bars?"

"What? Why do you want to know?" Rodney asked, suspiciously.

That was a yes. A quick frisk of Rodney's tac vest while Rodney batted at his hands and complained revealed two power bars. Rodney squeaked and flushed bright red when John bent and tugged open the straps of his thigh holster. He went silent when John reached for his belt buckle. A moment later, John handed over the holster and sidearm, keeping the belt.

"Um, Teyla, mind if I borrow your belt?"

With an amused glance at Rodney, she handed over Ronon's blaster and quickly removed her belt giving it to John. Giving the blaster back to Teyla, John took the belts and put them together into a passable rope.

The Ometians hadn't given any instructions or equipment for capturing a mirik, merely stating that the team needed to bring one back to the village before they would be willing to negotiate any kind of trade agreement. After years in the Pegasus Galaxy, John was finally starting to learn when the stupid things they were asked to do by prospective allies was a necessary ritual to smooth the wheels of diplomacy, or the latest source of entertainment for bored natives.

Even Rodney had pegged this as a wild goose, or in this case mirik, chase. But Ronon and Teyla both had a knack for overcoming even the the most ridiculous test or trial thrown at the team.

When Ronon had seen the mirik placidly grazing in the field, he had turned his blaster over to Teyla saying, "I can do it."

John had known then and there that Ronon was wrong, wrong, so very wrong.

"I think you better let me take this one," John had said, but Ronon had grinned and trotted out into the field toward the mirik. That was his first mistake.

There were many more after that, one of them not realizing that the mirik was a domesticated animal. If it had been wild, it would have been long gone never to be seen again. Another mistake was not taking into account that the creature was a lot smarter than any animal they had ever encountered in their explorations. It was a lot smarter than any horse John had ever seen back on Earth, and was leading Ronon on quite a merry chase. Merry to the mirik, anyway. He had a whinny that sounded like it was laughing at Ronon, which only pissed him off even more.

It was time to intervene before Ronon did something drastic. The Ometians had made it clear that harming their "sacred" mirik was out of the question, which was the only reason Ronon hadn't blasted it already.

John called out to Ronon and walked into the field. "Let me have a try, big guy."

Ronon turned to glare at him, then saw the improvised rope. "Think you're going to catch it with that thing?"

John shrugged. He had a plan.

"Five Snickers bars says you can't catch him," Ronon said, stalking past him.

John hid his smirk until Ronon was behind him. Winning was going to be so much sweeter now.

The mirik, which had been pretending to graze, a trick that Ronon had fallen for twice, watched John with curious eyes, ears twitched forward. Stopping in the middle of the field, he wasn't about to chase the thing all over hell and back, John folded the belts over his arm, and took a power bar out of his pocket.

Slowly, letting the mirik see that he had something in his hands, he began to peel the wrapper away, the sound of the paper crinkling loud in sudden silence. It looked like the Ometians were just as curious as the mirik and had gone quiet, waiting to see what would happen next.

John balled up the wrapper and stuffed it into his pocket. The mirik's nostrils flared as it sniffed the air. Talking a small nibble off the corner of the power bar, John murmured in the voice that all horses seemed to respond to, "Mmm, this is good. You should try a bite. Rodney loves these things and he eats like a horse... "

John kept up a low patter of nonsense as the mirik took one hesitant step toward him after another. Soon, it was nearly within arms reach, but John didn't make any sudden moves. Breaking off a piece of the power bar, John held it out, keeping it on the flat of his palm.

The mirik made snuffling sounds as it scented John and the treat in his hand. Stretching his neck out, he lipped the food out of John's hand and sped away. John didn't follow. He broke off another piece of the power bar and held it out.

The next few minutes became a weird little dance. John would talk and hold out food and the mirik would approach and snatch up and run. Eventually, the mirik stopped running after getting each bite. Not long after that, John had the belt around his neck, much to the mirik's chagrin. As consolation, John fed him bits of the second power bar as he led the mirik off the field.

Ronon was the only one not smiling as John walked up to the group. He glowered at the mirik and his fingers flexed as he reached for the blaster that wan't there. John couldn't figure out where Teyla might have hidden it, but then again, he was pretty sure it was better not to know.

As the Ometians gathered around him, smiling and patting his back, John said, "Now that I've got him, what do you want to do with him?"

It's only then that John realized that if anyone said anything close to 'let's kill'em and eat'em' he'd be damn upset.

Luckily, all they wanted to do was take their sacred beast back to their village, giving John the honor of leading the mirik there. John didn't mind at all. It was a pleasant walk in the afternoon sun, and the Ometians were eager to learn more about John's ability to wrangle mirik. It felt good to talk about raising, training, and riding horses, and they peppered him with questions when they found out that horses are wingless as well as bigger than mirik.

The icing on the cake was that for once, he'd bested Ronon at something. Four or five days a week since they'd met, Ronon had run him into the dirt, tossing 'old man' jokes at him the entire time. John had never once bested Ronon in a sparring match. He'd lost every Earth game, as well as every one of Ronon's made-up Satedan games, they'd ever played. And anyone who thought Ronon was all brawn and no brains was in for a rude awakening. He was killer at any strategy game, giving Rodney and Radek a run for their money on the chess board. He'd beaten John at pinochle, poker, checkers, and on one particularly humiliating occasion, he'd wiped the floor with John during the Atlantis wide Monopoly tournament.

John had always imagined it would feel good to beat Ronon at something. It didn't. It felt fantastic! Getting promoted to Lieutenant Colonel hadn't felt this great. It was a good thing the Ometians kept patting him on the shoulders -- it kept him from walking ten feet off the ground. He couldn't help puffing out his chest and grinning like a fool all the way back to the village.

Until the mirik stopped in its tracks and puked all over John's boots.

The crowd that had gathered around them as they entered the village gave a collective gasp. An angry grumble buzzed around the warriors as John stared uncomprehendingly at the green goo on his boots. The mirik wobbled, and its sides seemed to bloat up right in front of John's eyes. With an awful bellow, the mirik sank to the ground in a heap.

That's when the screaming started. A child's wail rang out. Warriors shouted and drew their knives. A hand grabbed John's sleeve and he found himself being himself being hauled into a run by Rodney. Ronon, blaster finally in hand, covered them as they ran for the puddlejumper.

The tap, tap, tap of arrows hitting the puddlejumper was all too familiar. Breathing hard, John fell into the pilot's seat as Ronon backed in, blaster going off one last time. Teyla closed the doors, then rolled her eyes at Ronon as he gave the blaster a jaunty twirl. John shielded the puddlejumper and took off for the 'gate.

"Well, Colonel Horse Whisperer, know any good horse doctors?" Rodney said.

"That would be Colonel Mirik Whisperer, Rodney," Teyla corrected, sweetly.

John wished the puddlejumper had a dashboard so he could bang his head against it.

"Think we can go back and get the wings?" Ronon asked. "I'd like to have them mounted on the wall of my quarters."

"Oh, that's just gross!" Rodney said, twisting around in his seat to glare at Ronon.

While the two of them were distracted with their bickering, John tried to take in what had just happened. He might have killed that poor animal with power bars. His stomach started to twist into knots until Teyla's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, John. I will return with another team and Dr. Talbot and see if he can save the mirik."

"Who?" Rodney butted in.

"Dr. Talbot. Your doctor of animals."

"You mean veterinarian? Atlantis has a veterinarian? Oh, wait, you mean the guy that smells like monkey poop?"

"That was only one time, Rodney." John said. "When those primates from The Planet of the Apes got loose."

Drawing everyone's attention was the wrong move. His teammates watched him the way cats watch a tiny quivering mouse. The expectant pause lasted so long, John nearly started babbling himself.

It was Rodney who broke the silence. "You made little children cry."

"You make them cry all the time," John threw back.

"Yes, but I do it on purpose." Rodney turned to Ronon. "I bet a bag of Doritos that if we detour to Planet Kidkill, John can make the whole council cry in five minutes flat."

John gritted his teeth.

"It's not Planet Kidkill, Rodney." Teyla said. "And most of the council are now considered adults." She paused. "But I'm sure he could make the Fishing Committee cry, they are all under twelve years old."

"I hate all of you. Hate."

"You should consider getting a new team," Rodney said. "Dr. Tibbet-- "

"Talbot," Teyla corrected.

"-- is a good candidate. You might need him around to prevent any more vicious animal slayings."

"Hate. Really. Hate."

"I still think we should go back and get the wings," Ronon said. "They'd make a great trophy."

"He doesn't need a trophy," Rodney said, smugly. "I took pictures."

As the puddlejumper approached the 'gate, John knew he was never, ever going to hear the end of it.

Then again, he beat Ronon for the first, and probably the last, time in his life, and that put a smile on his face that no amount of teasing could erase.

The End

Notes: No mirik were killed during the making of this story. After Teyla calmed the Ometians, Dr. Talbot and the local healer saved the mirik. But in compensation for their pain and suffering, the Ometians demanded an Earth horse of their own. Mr. Woolsey was not at all pleased with this development, but to keep the Ometians as allies, he spent the next two years fighting the IOA over their policy of not exporting Earth animals to the Pegasus Galaxy. It was with great pride and fanfare that Daisy, a Quarter Horse as pretty and gentle as her name, was presented to the Ometians. And Rodney finally got a cat - but that is a different story.


End file.
